In daylight, I used the binoculars and jumped, ridge to ridge, out to the edge of the park. There was a barbwire fencenot the park'sstretching along the boundary.

There were coyote carca.s.ses, some old, some fresh, hung every thirty feet along the wire. Some of them were tatters of skin caught on the barbs and bones below.

On the other side of the fence, the ground was stripped bare, no vegetation, nothing, but there were sheep. Lots of sheep.

I moved down the fence, to the north, the direction the ATVs had seemed to go the night before. The fence turned a corner and there was a stretch of land that looked just like the parkit hadn't been grazed to nothing, but there were tire tracksthe kind with deep pockets from the tire lugs, designed to grip in mud and sand. I turned and followed them.

They went as far as a county road, dirt but graded smooth, then headed south, back along another fence. The coyote carca.s.ses continued all around the property. The house was set back from the road, the only spot of vegetation on the entire ranch.

A mailbox at the road had "Keyhoe" painted crudely across it. The ATVs were parked near an outbuilding and there were four dogs lying on the porch that came for me, tearing across the ground toward the fence, growling and barking.

These were not friendly dogs.

I stepped off the road on the other side, put a mesquite bush between the house and me, and jumped away.

I took a cab into La Crucecita from St. Augustin. I was wearing tourist clothes and a big droopy sun hat. I gave directions in English and when the driver overcharged me, I didn't correct him. I went into Significado Claro like any other client. Alejandra was on the phone and I didn't look at her as she talkedI looked at the posters on the wall.

She glanced at my clothes and said, in English, "I'll be with you in a moment." I waved my hand, acknowledging this.

She was arranging the details for one of her immersion courses out at the Sheraton resort and I listened, not really paying attention to what she said, but just hungry for her voice.

Finally, details arranged, she hung up the phone and said, "How may I help you?"

I took off the hat and held my finger to my lips. They might be bugging the office.

Her eyes widened and without saying anything, she came around the desk and enfolded me in her arms, I began crying.

"Shhhhh." Her arms tightened and I cried harder; after a while, I calmed down and she let go. I picked up a pad of paper and wrote on it, iDonde podemos hablar? iDonde podemos hablar?

She took the pad and wrote where and when.

A half hour later we met on the wooded hillside behind the church, screened by the trees and with a good view of the approaches.

"No one was with me when I went into the church. I said ten Ave Marias," she told me and held up a bag, "and I brought chapulines." chapulines."

She was kidding about the gra.s.shoppers.

"I don't know what came over me," I said, over the chicken enmoladas. enmoladas. I'm okay, really." I'm okay, really."

"I missed you, too," Alejandra said.

I had to busy myself with eating for a moment, though I nearly choked. She covered by telling the news, new babies, two marriages, what was happening at the agency. I'd gotten some of this from Consuelo but I didn't tell her that. I just listened and watched. After a bit, when I'd finished eating, she said, "You look so muscular! Exercising?"

"Yeah, karate."

"And your schoolwork?"

"Yes, Mum. Every day."

She tilted her head. "Your English has changedthe accent, it's less American." accent, it's less American."

"Yeah, I've been mucking about in London."

"Don't tell me where," she cautioned.

"It's a big town, Londontwelve million souls. But I don't live there."

"Et votre frangais ? "

We switched to French.

"I still do written cla.s.s work. I'm going to Normandy next month. Work on my accent."

"I'm jealous! I've been to Quebec and their French is . . . different. But Martinique in the French West Indies was good. But never to France."

"After next week, I can take you instantly."

She looked sorely tempted. "No. Maybe someday, when our friend from the Villa Blanca is gone, when they've stopped looking for you. Last time I went out of town, to Mexico City, they were there, watching to see who I met."

I could feel my face change, set.

"Don't feel bad. I do everything I would do otherwise, except see you. I just ignore them."

"Consuelo said they searched the house."

I saw anger flicker across her face but then she smiled. "But they didn't take take anything. See? Not like a thief." anything. See? Not like a thief."

"They steal your privacy."

She shrugged and touched her forehead. "This "This is still private." She gestured between us. is still private." She gestured between us. "This "This is still private." is still private."

She rolled up the paper trash from the lunch, twisting it tighter and tighter, then put it in my hand. "You "You can dispose of this. I will go back into the church and pray. How do you leave?" can dispose of this. I will go back into the church and pray. How do you leave?"

I sighed. "I'll take the bus to Oaxaca, but I won't arrive. Twenty kilometers should be safe." I pulled the hat back over my eyes. "See? take the bus to Oaxaca, but I won't arrive. Twenty kilometers should be safe." I pulled the hat back over my eyes. "See? Invisible." Invisible."

"We can meet here sometimes. Have Consuelo call the day beforeexactly twentyfour hours beforeand she can say el goto saliseo. el goto saliseo. I will meet you the next day." I will meet you the next day."

"Well, if the cat got out, the coyotes would eat it. Very well, if it is safe," safe," I added a little stridently. I added a little stridently.

She pulled me to her again. "If it is safe."

The dogs were nowhere to be seen when I appeared behind the bush on the other side of the county road from the ranch house. It was dark but the moon was threequarters full and my eyes were acclimated. I jumped up to the porch, ripped the bags open, and dumped the rotting coyote corpses in front of the door.

The dogs began barking up a storm but I was back behind the bush before the first light came on.

"Oh, s.h.i.t! Tasha, Linus, Jack, Lucy, get out out of that!" I heard a thud and a dog's yelp. "Trey, get your rifle! Someone's messing with us!" I recognized the voice from when they'd dumped the last coyote. of that!" I heard a thud and a dog's yelp. "Trey, get your rifle! Someone's messing with us!" I recognized the voice from when they'd dumped the last coyote.

I left before they started shooting randomly into the night. I hoped all all of the dogs rolled in it. of the dogs rolled in it.

"Why am I doing this?"

Henry reached out and adjusted my bow tie. It was a rented whitejacket dinner suit from a formal hire shop in Lewisham. They made me leave a b.l.o.o.d.y great deposit since I didn't have a credit card.

"Meet girls, have fun. Meet Tricia."

He'd only asked me two days in advance. I guess if your school is in a Georgian mansion and they have an honesttoG.o.d ballroom, you occasionally have an honesttoG.o.d ball. The St. Bartholomew's Midwinter Ball, to be specific.

"I went once before, when I first started at St. Brutus's, but spent the whole time against the wall. But Tricia's got leave to attend with her roommate and the girls from St. Margaret's come. It'll be fun."

We were waiting for Tricia at Paddington Station by the bronze statue of Isambard KingdomBrunei. My hair was sticking up in back. I could feel it. I kept trying to push it down but Henry said, "Leave it alone. People will think you have nits."

"Git."

"Twit."

The 5:29 rolled in and Henry turned to watch. If he'd been my height, he would've been craning his neck and standing on tiptoe, but he didn't have to.

I'd realized early on that I was there for moral support. What the h.e.l.l What the h.e.l.lwhy not?

Tricia really was stunningtall, blond, greeneyed, and if she had any of Henry's problem with pimples, makeup was hiding it entirely. Her roommate was shorter, thank G.o.d, probably my height without heels, but slightly taller with. She had dark glossy hair half over her face, brown eyes, a turnedup nose.

"Griffin O'Conner, Martha Petersham."

"Delighted," she said.

"Charmed," I said, sounding rehea.r.s.ed and phony and stupid.

We took the Tube back to Russell Square but a cab from the station, fog and drizzle not mixing well with rented clothing.

Tricia and Martha checked in with the headmaster as required and he placed the rea.s.suring call back to St. Margaret's. They were to call again when they reached Martha's aunt's flat in KensingtonGardens after the ball.

Henry and I escorted them into the ballroom.

I don't know what I was expectingprobably something like a MerchantIvory production with a butler announcing the arrivals. It was kids in good clothes dancing to a nice punk band from the East End. Every six songs or so, the band would break and they'd play slow recorded music and a few students but mostly the chaperones would get out and foxtrot.

"I don't know how to dance," I told Martha early on, "but I'll take instruction."

This, apparently, was the right thing to say. I just thought about it like kata, or twostep k.u.mite, k.u.mite, and took instruction. She relaxed a great deal and bossed me around unmercifully. There was lots of laughter and some teasing because Henry and Tricia did all the slow dances. and took instruction. She relaxed a great deal and bossed me around unmercifully. There was lots of laughter and some teasing because Henry and Tricia did all the slow dances.

Henry and I were returning from the refreshments table with drinks when we saw Watters, Henry's inschool nemesis, trying to pull Tricia onto the dance floor. I took one look at Henry's face and said loudly, "Why's the headmaster coming over here?"

Watters released her arm like he'd been scalded and turned.

Henry looked like murder murder so I stepped forward, between him and Watters, my drinks held out before me. "Watch out, drinks coming through!" I weaved a bit wildly and Watters stepped back, eyeing the drinks and still looking around for the headmaster. so I stepped forward, between him and Watters, my drinks held out before me. "Watch out, drinks coming through!" I weaved a bit wildly and Watters stepped back, eyeing the drinks and still looking around for the headmaster.

Tricia, also eyeing Henry's expression, moved suddenly, taking Henry by the hand and saying, "I love love this song." She pulled him onto the dance floor and kept moving until she was on the other side, near where two of the chaperones sat, nibbling cake. this song." She pulled him onto the dance floor and kept moving until she was on the other side, near where two of the chaperones sat, nibbling cake.

I turned, more cautiously, and handed Martha her fizzy water. "Here you go, m'dear." I turned back to Watters and offered him the other. "Thirsty, mate?"

His reply was inarticulate. He turned on his heel and left. I didn't turn my back until he was well away so I was surprised when Martha kissed me on the cheek. I felt my ears go hot.

"What's that for?"

"Being clever," she said. "Being brilliant when it was needed." She was blushing a little, too. "Come on, dance."

We took a taxi after and Henry and I saw them all the way to the aunt's flat in KensingtonGardens.

Henry and Tricia snogged the whole way, and on the steps, before Martha punched the buzzer, I got kissed, too. And not on the cheek.

They scanned our pa.s.sports, and along with fifteen hundred other souls, we trooped aboard the MV Bretagne. MV Bretagne. The brochure said it could handle over two thousand, but it was offseason. The cars had been loading for over an hour. The brochure said it could handle over two thousand, but it was offseason. The cars had been loading for over an hour.

"Dad actually sprung for a cabin. Usually I just do the trip in one of the reclining chairs, which is a lot cheaper, but I guess there's a certain economy with two. He's not paying for two cabins, after all."

I nodded. I vaguely remember taking the ferry to Calais from Dover as a child and my mother insisting we not speak a word of English until we were back in the UK. I think they were both in graduate school then and we had three weeks off.

She was pretty serious about it and I learned the words for my favorite foods pretty quickly. Pommesfrites, Maman, s'il te plait? Pommesfrites, Maman, s'il te plait?

They had a cinema aboard, bars, shops, several restaurants. We could've eaten in the fancier table service, Les Abers, but we hit the selfservice place, La Baule, instead.

"Not fish and chips again?"

"Eat what you want."

I had the baguette with Brie and tomato and basil, and pie a la mode for pudding.

As we got out into the channel, the ship began pitching around and I began to regret the pie. We'd been thinking about hitting the cinema but it was something we'd both seen, so we returned to our tiny inboard cabin and lay down. Henry dropped off promptly but I couldn't get to sleepit was still early afternoon by my clock. I started to get up again, but the ship was still dancing and my stomach lurched. I lay back down and dozed, more or less, through the night.

The ship was far calmer when we awoke, sheltered from the north winds by the CotentinPeninsula. We got our stuff together, then hit the La Gerbe de Locronan cafe for tea and a roll. The Isle of Jersey was bathed in wisps of fog to the south. We docked at SaintMalo at eight but it took a bit to get off.

Cousin Harold was waiting on the other side of pa.s.sport control. "No trouble?"

"Not this time," said Henry. "Mr. Harold Langsford, young Master Griffin O'Conner."

We shook hands and I asked, "Is there trouble sometimes?"

Harold smiled. "Sometimes they get concerned about youngsters traveling alone. I've had to step up more than once to show he's being met. But," he looked up at Henry's face, "since Henry's shot up, I expect they're not paying that much attention." He glanced at the people streaming around us. "Let's give the car park a shot, why don't we? I'd like to clear out before they start unloading the cars."

It took less than fortyfive minutes to make it to Pontsorson. We went on the coast road but it turned inland before we could see MontSaintMichel. "Later," said Cousin Harold. "Don't want to go today, anyhow. There's less tourists during the week."

We had four days.

Cousin Harold's gray stone "cottage" had four bedrooms, a walled garden, and a vast slate roof. Everything in the garden was brown and wilted but tidy, beds well covered with mulch. It had been foggy in Portsmouth but by the time we parked his Citroen, the sun had burned off the light mist and the sky was blue as Mum's eyes.

Well, like they were.

His home wasn't quite in the village; it was fifteen minutes to walk in. "Thought we'd have lunch at the cafe." On the way he said, "You've just crossed into Normandy."

"It's not at the river?" The bridge was still ahead.